Out of Place
by undeadtimelord
Summary: John has been hearing a new noise in his nightmares. An odd noise. This little noise is so much more important than he thinks.
1. Chapter 1

Out of place

The noise. That was one thing John could remember but then how he could he forget.

The cries of men falling to their death still echoed in his head. The guns, stuck on replay and then the bombs … John was cursed to hear then in his night-mares. Its not like he could forget them, could he ? They were the sounds of his past, the sounds of war.

So why, as he tossed and turned in the constant dream, had he heard a new sound. The sound was so odd, so out of place, John was surprised that he had missed it for all these years. It puzzled him. The nightmares were worrying him and then there was the mysteries noise. He couldn't exactly talk to Sherlock about it. He would ether not care or laugh at him. This is why he had decided to go back to his Psychologist.

"What is it ?" Ella (His Psychologist) asks, beating her pen on her knee, " What is the sound of ?"

John sighs heavily. He has asked himself that many times yet never came up with an answer. The only reason he was here was to sort out this mystery. Usually, this wouldn't bother him but it did. His mind couldn't handle not knowing what it was. Sherlock really has rubbed off on him.

"I don't know" he replies, running his hands through his hair.

"There must be something" she says.

He chuckles how ever stops as soon as he sees her concerned face.

"It's a whirling sound" he reveals, " a spaceship maybe."

It sounded mental, he knew that. It was mental but true. That was the only explanation he could think of and it happened to be a stupid one.

She all ready thought he was strange, now she must think he was totally mental.

John looks down at his stripped jumper, trying to hide his embarrassed expression.

"When you hear this sound does anything pop up in your head ?" Ella questions, "any image or memory. Anything connected to it ?."

Without even thinking, two words slip out of Johns mouth. His eyes widen with shock

Where did that come from ? Certainly not from his mind. Just … it made no sense.

" Pardon" she says, leaning in with interest.

' **Well done John' **he thought, blushing a deep red, **' great logical in no way weird answer.'**

"It's okay John" Ella smiles, reassuringly, " please repeat yourself."

John shook his head.

"You can trust me, I promise not to laugh."

He opens his mouth to say something but hesitates.

His brain was on overload, screaming at him not to tell her.

' **Don't do it John' **it said, '**please, keep some of your dignity intact.'**

He glances at Ella. She was ready to hear John make a fool out of himself.

'**Well not today' **he thinks, standing up.

"I am sorry" he apologizes, "but I can not do this."

"Wait" she calls but it was too late. He was all ready out of the door and running down the street.

John runs down the street, bumping into people as he went.

He has to get to the flat as fast as he can. He has to get the words out of his head. Nothing made sense to him. Why had he said that ?

His heart was racing as he sped past a group of tourists.

"Forget about it" he tells himself however it didn't matter because nothing could get them out of his head. They span around and around, tormenting him.

He stops, sitting on a park bench to catch his breath. The same two words echoing in his mind. Two very simple and insignificant words.

_Blue Box._


	2. Chapter 2 - The Doctor

"Clara" The Doctor shouts, " Are you ready ?".

He straightens his bowtie with frustration. It wasn't fair. Clara was leaving and he was going to be alone. He hated being without a companion. No companion means no one to share his adventures with, no one to praise his genius.

3 days ago Clara had told the Doctor she needed to go home. Her family were having a big get together. She needed to have some time away from the life threatening adventures and jumped at the chance of seeing all her family. It was a good excuse and the Doctor accepted that but he still was sad to see her leave. He knew that one day she would leave forever just like every other companion and this just reminded him of that.

"Still sulking are we ?" smirks Clara appearing from the corridor.

"No" he responds, flicking a switch.

Clara chuckles, " I am only going to be gone for 2weeks, not long".

He ignores that. Time was insignificant. He could travel any where in time and space … wait a second. An idea, a good safe idea.

"Genius" The Doctor smirks to himself as he watches Clara drag her suitcase down the stairs.

"Ready" she says with a grin and the Doctor nods.

"Lets get you home" he smiles, running round the console.

"We flip that and push this" he sings as the TARDIS sets in to action.

With in a minute, they land with a thud.

" Well done" The Doctor says to it, getting up off the floor.

" Thanks a lot" Clara mutters, brushing her brown hair out of her eyes.

" She got us here, didn't she ?" The Doctor argues, opening the TARDIS door to see Earth, "we are all alive."

" I bet she did it on purpose" Clara scowls at the console.

He rolls his eyes. His TARDIS would never do that and he hated hearing people be horrible to her. She was magnificent .

" I bet she is happy to see me leave " Clara says, walking to the door.

" That's not true" he lies , patting the console.

"I am glad to be leaving her " she admits. Clara walks out of the TARDIS and breathes in happily.

"Bye Doctor" she smiles, " don't get yourself killed".

" I promise" he nods and then Clara walks off, leaving the Doctor alone.

He sighs, shutting the blue door.

" Goodbye Clara" he mutters, leaning on the console.

Everything was so silent. No happy hum of human, only the hum of the machinery .

"Right," the Doctor says, rubbing his hands together, " lets go travelling".

He grins as he runs up the steps and gets straight down to business.

" We will just fast forward 2 weeks " he tells the TARDIS, " Clara will have her two weeks away and I will have my companion back."

Instantly, it throws him about.

"Don't go all bad tempered" he barks, " it's not my fault you two don't get along" but still his blue box refuses to listen.

" Come on" he moans, pulling a lever. Sparks came from the console that send him flying backwards.

It was Time lord versus Machine and each one was not going to give up with out a fight.


	3. Chapter 3- Sherlock and John

" John" a voice calls out, waking John from his dream. He groans, glancing at his clock. Its red digits read '7:18'.

"This is too early" shouts John, pulling his blanket over his face. This was the first night he had actually got some sleep and Sherlock had to bother him.

" Okay" Sherlock responds, " it's fine, you can go back to sleep".

John grins as he turns away from the door . His sleep deprived mind did not register the fact that Sherlock was being kind. This was Sherlock Holmes, he has never showed the slightest interest in Johns well being. All John wants to do is sleep and thankfully, he could do that.

" Just out of curiosity " his flat-mate asks, " What did you do with the spare fire extinguisher ?"

John's eyes instantly snap open and he leaps out of his bed, not even bothering to grab his dressing gown.

His eyes widen as he see's the mess of the kitchen.

" Found it" Sherlock declares with a smug grin, holding up the extinguisher " you should really stop moving important things. I know it doesn't take me long to find, about 5.3 seconds to be exact, but its useful to know where they are".

John doesn't answer. He only stares at the kitchen. Sherlock follows his gaze to the burnt table.

"Come on John" he sighs "this isn't new to you."

"No" John agrees, " but the table is."

Sherlock rolls his eyes as he flops onto the chair near by. His face was black with ash and his dressing gown had burn marks all over. He watches as he flat mate sort out his 'mess'.

" I needed to test if the table was worth its money" he argues, " and as you can see it obviously wasn't". John shoots him a glare and he turns away.

'_The table had it coming' _he thought, _'It's not my fault it was highly flammable'._

His heart sinks slightly as he pictures Johns face of disapproval. He didn't like making him angry but it wasn't his fault … was it ? Sherlock shakes his head. No, it wasn't and how dare he make himself even consider that possibility. It wasn't his fault the table was so poorly made. It was more John's for even buying it.

" When Mrs Hudson see's this she will have a heart attack" John mutter, trying to get rid of the burn marks of the floor.

He glances over at Sherlock. He could just see a few black curls over the top of the chair.

' **Can he not see that I am angry with him' **John thinks **' he is Mr Genius but his stupid mind can not even deduct that'.**

" Stop thinking " Sherlock instructs," your angry glares are cluttering up my head".

John slams down the cloth and storms off. Sherlock didn't even flinch.

'**I am to tired to deal with this'.**

John lays down on his bed but as soon as he closed his eyes then horrors of war appeared. He opens them quickly. This was all Sherlock's fault. He is driving John to the edge of sanity with his constant child-ish acts. He plays his violin at 2:00 in the morning, he is forever ruining things and offending everyone he talks to. John has to force him to put the violin away, John has to replace everything he burns and John has to apologize for Sherlock's ' deductions'. It was hard enough with out Sherlock causing problems. John was fed up with everything. He wanted to leave and never come back. He still had no idea where this Blue Box came into everything. His head hurt.

His phone vibrates and John picks it up.

' New case. Come to Scotland yard for details

Lestrade'.

And he texts back saying

' As long as there is tea ready for me

JW'.

_* _TWO HOURS LATER*

The pair walk into the building, all clean and dressed.

Sherlock holds a joyful grin on his face.

" First case in a long time" he says happily.

John would normally remind him that this was a case but today, he just watches his friend. He could not be bothered reminding him every time this happened.

" John" Lestrade nods, handing over a hot cup tea.

Johns face lit up at the sight and takes it with no hesitations.

" How has he been ?" Lestrade asks and all John does is shoots him a look. Lestrade knew what it meant.

" Oh crap" he curses, sitting down in his chair.

" The case ?" Sherlock demands, " we didn't come here to chit chat."

John sips on his tea. Every little thing Sherlock is doing pisses him off.

" A body is in the morgue for you" the detective inspector answers, " a female around 18. Once my team has finished on the crime scene, I will let you on".

Sherlock sighs, striding off.

" If you let me on now, we could solve this a lot quicker" he calls back.

Lestrade clears his throat before leaving the room.

" He doesn't mean it " John says to him, trying to sound convincing. He stops.

" I wish I could believe you " Lestrade chuckles, turning to John, " but I know the truth and so do you."

John hangs his head in shame. Why he felt this shame , he has no idea. Maybe it was because he just watches Sherlock say these horrible things. He should stop them.

" He doesn't realise how lucky he is" Lestrade tells him, " you deserve so much better". John didn't respond, he just walks past Lestrade. He needs to follow Sherlock.

Anger bubbles in John as he enters St Barts.

Lestrade's words stick in his head. Maybe he did deserve better. He follows Sherlock every where. John was just a pet in his eyes. He was nothing,

' **No more' **John thinks, **' I need to tell him because I can not keep this anger in me any longer'**.

He storms into the morgue, preparing his speech.

" Sherlock, we need to speak" he says as he approaches his flat-mate.

" Could you pass the knife ?" Sherlock asks, hand held out.

John stares in anger at him. His anger grows but he sighs heavily.

" Where is Molly ?" He says.

" Gone to get coffee" Sherlock answers, still waiting for the knife.

" Sherlock , can you .." John starts but is interrupted.

" The knife John" Sherlock demands.

" No, just listen" he tries.

" Even you have the enough IQ to pass me the knife" Sherlock interrupts once again, not knowing what he has just said. That's when Johns anger got to much.

" Do you have any respect for anyone ?" he shouts at him, " insulting Lestrade, treating Molly like a slave. Do you have any idea how tiring it is ?".

Sherlock doesn't respond, he carries on staring at the knife next to John. He follows Sherlocks gaze to the knife.

" You .. You" John stutters, unable to express his anger.

"You freak" he spits and freezes.

. Pain flickered across Sherlock's face. John could see sadness in his blue eyes. He knows he has stepped too far.

" Sherlock, I am sorry" he apologizes, putting his hand out to his friend but Sherlock moves away quickly.

John just watches as his friend ignores him.

" I am so sorry" he finally says, running out.

Sherlock didn't notice John leave, he didn't notice the tears drop down his face. He felt strange. Sad ? Angry ? No, it was a lot worse. He felt disappointment.

' _Sherlock Holmes doesn't cry' h_e thinks in disgust , _' he doesn't care about anything' _but he knows he is lying to himself. He wipes the tears away and turn back to the body.

" I thought you were different " he says quietly, wishing John could hear him.


End file.
